The Deeds of One
by Blade for Hire
Summary: Ordinary lives for ordinary people in their ordinary cities, all to be changed by extraordinary encounters with a mysterious blade-wielding man in white robes.
1. Needs of the Many

Needs of the Many…

Samesh ben Japheth looked out at the platform from the rooftop garden of his home. He had the "privilege" of his Jerusalem home being so close to the execution platforms. Far too often, Regent Majd Adin would hold public executions that he administered personally. Samesh had begun to become acquainted with the sight of death and the scent of blood. Ever since Sala' Al' Din left to fight the infidels, Jerusalem had begun to fall to the bloodlust of the regent.

Samesh sighed and shook his head. There was another execution today. Four people, soon to be four bloody bodies that would be openly displayed on the posts to rot for the next several days. Samesh knew that these people were hardly criminals. The regent was simply killing them for his own perverse enjoyment. But what was there to do? Any who spoke out against Majd Adin only wound up as the next execution victim. And what was further cause for Samesh to shake his head, the people of the city enjoyed the gruesome displays far too much, simply on the grounds that they never knew that these victims were not criminals, but political dissidents. It was a grip of power, a grip he had the entire city firmly locked in.

Samesh sat down on the rail of the garden as the regent came out onto the platform, waving to the cheering crowd. The people cheered and waved to the regent, blindly accepting his vice grip on the city. He quieted them with a shout demanding for silence before he began into a liturgy of praise to himself and berating of the four people behind him. He paced back and forth across the platform, blowing his own horn and sounding all the more pompous for it. As he finished addressing the crowd, he turned around to begin his customary lecture of his victim before he killed them.

Samesh watched the grim spectacle, waiting for the regent to raise his sword for the death blow, so he would know when to look away. As he watched, he noticed something in the crowd. A man in white robes had separated from the rest and began climbing a ladder to the roof of one of the surrounding buildings. Samesh stood up and squinted to try to get a better look. He couldn't tell from this distance, but it looked like the man had a sword on his belt. What was he doing climbing around the rooftops like that? Samesh's eyes widened when the white-hooded man's intentions became clear. He climbed to the roof parallel the platform, very close to the regent, and well behind his line of guards. Samesh balled his hands into fists with the anticipation. For once, he was looking forward to seeing someone die.

The regent was almost finished lecturing the first victim when the man moved. He jumped from the roof, nimbly bound across some crossbeams, and jumped high into the air above the regent, hand held out back to strike. He landed on the regent and thrust the blade in his hand into his neck, opening a spring of blood. Samesh cheered for the white-hooded man. Finally, the stain upon mighty Jerusalem was wiped clean. Without hesitation, the man leapt from the body and off the platform, barreling his way through the crowd and sprinting toward a ladder with the guards close in his wake. He bounded partway up the ladder and stopped only long enough to kick the guard following him up in the head. The guard lost his grip on the ladder and fell back down, landing on and scattering the guards below. The white-hooded man ascended the rest of the ladder and jumped to the roof, taking time to throw an archer off the roof down to the fix of disorganized guards below. After making an adequate mess of things, the man took off running, ably leaping and bounding between rooftops and towers and crossbeams to escape the men on his tail.

It was only now that Samesh realized that the man would be passing very close to his roof. He also realized that the guards had recollected themselves and were pursuing very closely. If the man escaped, it would be by a very narrow margin. The white-robed man jumped a gap from an adjacent building to Samesh's roof and looked around briefly before resuming running.

Samesh pointed to his garden hut, "Here! Hide here! Quick! They're coming." Without response, the white-hooded man ran up and jumped into the garden hut. With less then a second to spare, the guards following him started piling onto the roof from the ladders around the building. They got onto the roof and looked around for their target.

The guard captain looked at Samesh and pointed at him with his sword, "You there! Did a man in white robes go by here?"

Samesh shook his head and pointed, "Not by here, sir. He jumped from that building down into the alley below. If you hurry, you might still catch him."

The captain looked at his men, "Back to the streets. Move it!" Without another word, the guards all descended the ladders and left Samesh alone.

After waiting a few minutes to be certain, Samesh leaned over to the garden, "They're gone." He was startled when the man quickly jumped out of the garden no sooner than the words were out of his mouth.

The man looked at him, though Samesh couldn't see much of his face for the low-drawn hood, "You have my thanks, friend. May God watch over you." He turned and walked to the edge of the roof.

"Wait!" Samesh stopped him just before he jumped, "Who are you?"

The white-hooded man stood there silently for a moment before looking back at Samesh, "Salvation…and redemption." Without another word, the man jumped across the gap to an adjacent rooftop and continued on.

Samesh stood there, stunned by what had happened. Free. They were finally free of Majd Adin's reign of terror. Samesh laughed out loud and hurried to the stairs to go down into the house. His wife would no doubt be curious as to what all the commotion was about, and he was more than happy to tell her.

Altair dropped into the bureau and presented the bloodied feather to Malek. He allowed himself a self-satisfied nod as he sat down on the cushions and closed his eyes to rest. Another had fallen, and he had another piece of the puzzle in discerning the tie that binds these men one to another. He shook his head slowly. No doubt his next words with Al Mualim would not be pleasant ones. He set the thought aside for the time and bowed his head to rest.


	2. Needs of the Few

…Needs of the Few

Sapphira beth Haden readjusted the load of flax in her arms as she weaved through the crowd of people in the souk. She ducked around a corner next to a merchant stall and stopped to catch her breath, looking around as she rested. Things in Damascus were on a hurried downhill spiral these days, what with Abul Nukud having running amok with another of his parties again. Some areas in the local souks had become rowdy places, and she had even heard of some of the guards shaking down some of the smaller merchants. Sapphira's father's pottery shop had seen a marked decrease in customers over the last several weeks. Sapphira shook her head and looked up into the sky, idly wondering if God had forsaken them.

As Sapphira looked around, she noticed one of the guards eyeing her. The men wore grey leather armors, marking them as some of the regent's men. One guard looked at her with an evil glimmer in his eye and a sadistic smirk on his face. Sapphira hefted the load of flax into her arms again and resumed her way back home. Chancing a quick glance over her shoulder, she saw the guard motion to the three others with him as they started following her. Sapphira looked forward and uttered a silent prayer. It was more than a dozen plazas to get home, and these men no doubt meant no good toward her. She ducked into an alley and walked all the faster, trying to get away. As she turned another corner, she saw from the corner of her eye that the guards were still following her. She continued walking as fast as possible. She looked back again and her heart sank when she saw there were still pursuing. As quickly as she could, Sapphira threw the flax aside and started running. She didn't last long, though. The guards caught up to her in a small empty plaza and grabbed hold of her.

The one guard grabbed her and leaned in closer to her face, "Don't worry, little dear. I think you'll enjoy what we have in mind." He sloppily kissed her on the cheek. Sapphira pulled her head away and slapped him across the face, turning his head around and making him rub his cheek.

The sadism on his face transformed to pure indignation, "Why, you little…" He raised his hand and backhanded her across the jaw, forcing her back against the wall behind her.

The guard nodded to his men, "Have your way with her, boys." He turned around and kept watch as the men started pulling at Sapphira's hair and clothing. She swung and clawed and slapped at them, but it seem to do no good. Sapphira silently resigned herself to losing her white veil, though she would not give it up without a fight.

Through all the commotion, Sapphira was suddenly struck with a moment of clarity as she looked up into the sky above their heads. She saw a far off silhouette, an eagle, flying across the sun. The eagle's form cast shadow and flickers of light as the sun flitted through its feathers. As the bird seamed to vanish into the clouds, Sapphira's eyes widened as she saw the shadow of a man leaping through the air, silhouetted by the sun behind him, hand held out back to strike.

The shadow landed on one of the guards who was standing watch, slamming him to the ground. The guards molesting Sapphira all stopped and looked. He was a man in a white robe with a short blade on his back and a sword hanging from his belt. He stood abruptly as he drew a bloodied blade from the guard's neck and retracted it into his gauntlet. The other guards wasted no time in drawing their swords and attacking the man in the white hood. As one guard swung high, he ducked under as the blade slashed over him, scything his leg under the guard and tripping him as he dashed around behind him.

They squared off, the white-hooded man drawing his sword while standing between the guards and Sapphira. The guards began to circle them, shouting insults and challenges. The man simply stood there with sword at ready, watching, waiting, sizing up his prey. The man kept his back close to Sapphira, protecting her such that she had little room to run, but she was too scared to move anyway.

Finally, the first guard struck. He came in with a high swing horizontally. The man ducked, pushing Sapphira to her knees in the same motion that he knocked the guard's knees out from under him. The guard fell to the ground and rolled onto his back just in time for the white-robed man to jam his blade down into the guard's gut, killing him instantly.

The second guard used the distraction to attack the man's unguarded back. The guard raised his sword high to cut him down. The man simply bent forward and kicked back, planting his boot squarely in the guard's stomach and doubling him over. As he regained his balance, the man spun and slashed his sword down, cutting deep into the guard's neck and shoulder, ensuring that this would be his last fight.

As she watched the battle unfold before her, Sapphira could not tear her eyes from the man in the white robe. His movements were practiced and fluid, every slash of his sword flowing like a song of spring water falling over oasis rocks. He truly was a master of his craft, lethal and somewhat morbid though it may be.

The third and final guard attacked with a quick slash of his sword. He swung downward, catching only the white-hooded man's blade for his effort. The guard reached and grabbed the man's collar, but he only slapped his hand away before back-fisting him across the face. The guard staggered back briefly before attacking again. Putting an end to his pitiful resistance, the man riposted the guard's attack before sinking his sword up to the hilt in the guard's gut. He slid the body off the blade and wiped it off before returning it to the scabbard.

Two more guards from the street came to the aid of their fallen comrades. One guard held his sword out to slash across as he closed with the white-hooded man. In a blur of white cloth, the man spun low and kicked out, stopping the guard by breaking his knee backward. In the same spin, the man drew the blade from his back and slashed it across the guard's neck, putting him down.

The final guard thrust forward to try to stab the man, but only spelled his own doom. The man stepped aside the thrust and grabbed the guard's arm, breaking his elbow with an upward hook of his free hand. He then pulled the guard forward and turned, jamming the blade into the base of the guard's neck from behind. He let he body fall and stood there, fresh blood running from his blade, before returning the weapon to the sheath on his back.

The white-hooded man turned to look at Sapphira, not letting her see his face for his low-drawn hood, "Are you unhurt?" His baritone voice was deep and resonating, yet with a touch of feeling to it.

Sapphira finally regained enough wits about her to check herself up and down, "Yes, I'm okay. Thank you, so much. If you hadn't come when you did, I don't know what would have become of me."

The man simply acknowledged her with a slow nod before turning and starting to walk away.

"Wait!" Sapphira hurried after him, walking up next to him and looking at him, "I don't even know your name."

The man stopped and was silent for a moment before responding without looking at her, "You needn't know my name. Know only this: that my work is not only for the needs of the many, but for the needs of the few, as well." Without another word, the man slowly nodded to her and walked away. Sapphira watched his receding back as he vanished into the crowd. Forgetting about the flax she had dropped before, she took off running toward home. She had to tell her father all that had happened. God had not forsaken them. In fact, he had sent a guardian angel to finally bring an end to their torment. She had to find some way to repay this mysterious man for his actions.

The white-robed man squatted down on the parapet of a high tower, looking out over the grand view of the proud city of Damascus. He flexed his four-fingered left hand into a fist, snapping the hidden blade from the gauntlet. The assassin ran his fingers down the length of the blade. Soon it would taste the blood of Abul Nukud, the corrupt merchant leader. Altair allowed himself a smile under his hood. In spite of lost honor on account of his own arrogance, it could be regained. This fault could be undone, and it would be undone. Be it by his hand or by his blade, it did not matter. He retracted the blade into the gauntlet once more before standing and leaping from the tower to the crowd below.


	3. A Stranger's Story

A Stranger's Story

Benjamin ben Jacob walked slowly down the road, his head hung in sorrow and his fists balled in anger. They had no right to do such a thing. He had only tried to help that poor stall vendor, but now he had been stripped of his rank and cast out of the Jerusalem city watch. It had been several years since the murders of Talal the slaver and the regent Majd Adin, as well as those several other upper class citizens in other cities around the region. One would think that with the deaths of such powerful corrupt men in the city that Jerusalem would begin to rise out of the mire of despondency, but no. If anything, it had only sunken deeper. Benjamin looked up to the sky, uttering a silent prayer to God, and wondering if he was the only honest man left on this earth.

Benjamin sat down on the end of a bench next to the road and laid his head back against the wall behind him. Without his trade as a city guard, he would no longer be able to provide for his family. His wife and children would starve if he could not find some kind of paying work. But as word would spread throughout the city, no tradesman, honest or otherwise, would hire a man who had been cast from they city watch as he had. He watched the many people of Jerusalem walk by where he sat, idly wondering if there were any among them who might give him a chance. But no, with his honor stripped from him in this way, there was little hope of that at all.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, a man wearing white robes sat down on the bench next to Benjamin, leaning forward and letting his hood fall to conceal his face. Benjamin looked at the man and would have disregarded him as merely a scholar when he noticed that the stranger was breathing heavily, obvious sign that he'd been running. Benjamin's eyes widened when he realized what the man was running from when he saw a number of city guards come around the corner and run down the street past the bench, passing up the white-robed man completely. He also saw that, aside the robes, he was adorned with a number of weapons, as well. A short blade across his back, a scimitar hanging from his side, and a number of small knives anywhere they would fit on his person all caused Benjamin to nervously place his hand on his own sword at his side. What was most odd, was the man looked familiar somehow.

Without looking, the stranger seemed to notice Benjamin's hand on his sword, "You needn't do that, friend. You're in no danger from me."

Benjamin nodded as he eased, "I would hope not. I'd likely be in more trouble with the guards than you were I to cause unrest."

The stranger looked at him, his hood still obscuring his face, "Why would that be when you are clearly the lesser of two villains?"

Benjamin shook his head, "Nothing a stranger need be bothered with. I shouldn't concern you with an unlucky man's sorrows."

The white-robed man nodded to him, "Speak your mind, friend. Even a stranger can be of help."

Benjamin shrugged as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, "I suppose it would do little more damage if I told you. I was once a guard of the city watch. But that was before my dishonest captain used me to exploit a lowly vending merchant. In the end of it all, the captain made off with the money and my rank and honor were stripped from me. Now, I have no means to provide for my family. The watch would see to it that I am removed from any employment I seek in this city." He hung his head, "Oh, to take back what that cur stole from me. I could never remove the stain from my good name now."

The stranger shook his head, "You can regain it. Every man's honor is his to reclaim."

Benjamin scoffed in disbelief, "Fairy tales, friend. Now that my good name has been tarnished, people will remember it until my dying day."

The white-robed stranger looked at him, "You think it impossible to regain your honor?" Benjamin simply chuckled and shrugged.

He saw the man smile under his hood, "Then stay on this bench, friend, and let me recount to you the tale of how one much like you regained the honor that was taken and cast from him." Altair made himself comfortable on that street side bench as he began his story.


End file.
